The Fall - Book 2

245. ...well, the small reason is that Bruce snores.

OCTOBER 24, 2020 — MISSION DAY 1 — BUCKY

Once the quinjet is at cruising altitude, Nat sets the autopilot, then rises from her seat.

"Ow!" Sam exclaims as she boxes his ears.

"I cannot believe you! 'Frosty the Snowman'...what the hell were you thinking?"

"I already apologized! Bucky, tell her!" Sam gives me a pleading look as he blocks Nat's next smack.

I want to help him, I really do...and I also wait, letting Nat land a hit to his left bicep and his right shoulder before I intervene. "Nat, that's enough." When she steps back—still glaring daggers at Sam—I continue. "He did apologize. And we all know how he speaks without thinking...I mean, how many times have you pointed out that he doesn't have a filter?"

"Yeah, what he...hey!" Sam's tone changes from humble to indignant. "I do so have a filter!"

"Really, Wilson? You want to make that argument now?" Mitchell chimes in.

"Okay, okay." Sam holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I really am sorry, Bucky."

"I know, Sam. You're forgiven," I reply, giving Nat a pointed look.

"Since Bucky says so...you're forgiven." She pauses. "But if you ever—ever!—say something like that again, I'm using my Widow Bite instead of my hand."

She returns to her seat; I look at Sam and give him a 'what can you do?' shrug.

"So, the good news is that we're going to miss the main body of this storm," Nat says. "The less-good news is that there are a few smaller pockets of rain and wind that are going to require me throttling back slightly, which means that, instead of taking just over two-and-a-half hours to reach Prague, it's going to take four. That's still well-within our timeframe, though."

While the others murmur their acknowledgment, I lean my head back and close my eyes, doing my best to get centered and grounded...a feat that proves very difficult, given the way my thoughts drift to my wife, and how I know there's something bothering her. I could have asked, but I didn't want to push; didn't want to add to the stress I could feel emanating from her, even without our link.

I will my mind not to spiral, to not go down the endless path of 'what if?', but it doesn't listen. I spend what feels like an eternity waging an internal battle against my thoughts, fighting against the flotsam and jetsam that swirl in the maelstrom.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes, the vibration pulling me out of my head. I take it out of my pocket; when I see Pepper's name on the screen, anxiety unfurls in my gut.

"Hi, Bucky," she says as soon as the call connects, her face filling the screen. "Réa and the baby are both fine. Well, Réa's fine physically. Emotionally, she's a bit...well, here." I hear the sound of a door opening, and her footsteps moving over carpet.

She speaks again, but she's looking off-camera as she does so. "I'll set this down, and then I'll give you both some privacy." She sets whatever device she's using to make this call on a bedside table, centering my wife in the frame, then I hear her leave what I know is the room, closing the door behind her.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" I ask, taking in the sight of my wife, curled up on top of the covers, clinging to a pillow.

At my question, she lifts her face and looks at me; I see tears both in her eyes and drying on her cheeks.

"I-I...I just..." she sniffles, "Loki wouldn't let me take my plate to the sink. Because you told him not to let me overdo it, and he's taking that to the extreme. And I know Thor is, as well. And I know you're worried about me, and that our family and friends are worried about me, but I...Bucky, I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I feel like I can't make my own decisions; like no one trusts me to know my body and my limits. The only reason I could even come in here by myself is because I said I had to use the bathroom, and that even you let me do that on my own."